


No One Mourns The Wicked

by speedy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Dark!Hermione, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 05:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10268876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedy/pseuds/speedy
Summary: It wasn’t the kind of romance that ended with happily ever after. It was kind that burned through the body and soul and left only ashes in its wake. The kind that set the whole world on fire.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this sitting in a notebook for more than two years now. Finally got it typed up months ago and now I'm tired of looking it. So many Tomione stories are about Tom & Hermione getting together in their youth; I wanted one that happened long after, deep into a volatile relationship, once they were adults and Hermione had caught up with her own time. Title's from the musical Wicked.

“Hello, Tom.”

Voldemort froze and watched as Hermione- _his Hermione_ \- emerged from the crowd. He wasn’t entirely surprised to see her, nor their oldest child and only son Alexander steps behind her. He had always been protective of his mother and sharp with his wand. A part of the man once known as Tom Riddle felt a twinge of happiness deep in his chest, a sentiment he’d thought he’d long since extinguished. “Hermione, dear, I’m so glad you could join us on such an auspicious occasion. And Alexander, it’s only right my son and heir should witness my greatest victory. Did the girls come with you?” He glanced at the faces in the crowd, trying to spot his daughters.

“No, it’s just us, Dad,” Alexander answered.

Hermione held her head high as she met him between the two sides, determined. “Did you really expect I wouldn’t be here, Tom?”

“I know how it hurt you the first time around.”

“And you loved to poke that open wound.”

“I thought perhaps you wouldn’t want to live through this battle twice.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “It’s good to see you, love.” He vanished the elastic holding her hair back and spread it out. “That’s better. You know I like your hair down, my Medusa.”

She rolled her eyes, just a hint of a smile on her lips. “Only you could turn an insult into an endearment.”

“I like your hair wild. It’s beautiful, just like the rest of you.”

She blushed. “It’s been forty years, Tom. I’m an old woman now.”

“You haven’t changed a bit in all that time,” he said honestly.

“And you can still turn on the charm, I see.”

Alexander cleared his throat. “Do you mind moving on? I don’t think anyone wants to witness the natural conclusion to this conversation.”

His parents glared at him.

He held up his hands in defense. “I’m just saying, the last time Dad turned on this much charm, we ended up with Katie.”

Voldemort looked at his wife. Hermione had a hand over her face.

Her tone was flat. “Congratulations, Tom. It’s a girl. Sorry you’re forty years late.”

A familiar anger ran through him. He gripped his wand tighter. “You should’ve told me.”

“After our last conversation, do you blame me? I wasn’t going to let you drag our children down with you.”

He sneered. “I see you really haven’t changed a bit. You’re still putting others ahead of your husband.”

“Says the man who kept leaving. The man who put the Dark ahead of his family.”

“You did perfectly fine without me.”

She stamped her foot angrily. “Once again, you miss the point entirely. Just because I could put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads didn’t mean we didn’t need you. Preferably _soul intact_.”

Voldemort snapped. “How dare you! I’ve done what no other wizard has done!”

“What no other wizard was stupid enough to do!” Hermione shot back. “Do you have any idea what it was like watching the man I love disappear piece by piece? Watching you become more and more irrational, knowing there was nothing I could do to help you? Tom, do you remember the plans we came up with after Hogwarts? Do you even _have_ a plan anymore? You’re conducting a war against teenagers and you’re _losing_.”

“I’ve won,” he said with confidence. “Potter is dead.”

A slow grin appeared on Hermione’s face. “Really? So where is his body?”

Voldemort glanced to where he’d last seen the boy. The body was gone.

“I killed him! No one survives a killing curse!”

“Except Harry, of course. That’s twice now. Perhaps you should’ve used a different spell. You don’t have too much luck with that one.”

He looked at his wife, stunned. “You said...”

“I never saw his body.”

They stared at each other.

“I went back ten minutes ago, Tom,” she said quietly. “We’re in all new territory.”

His eyes widened slightly at the implication.

“We both made assumptions about what I knew. It took me a long time to realize what I thought was true, wasn’t and what I needed to do. I couldn’t change the past, but I’ve caught up now. And I can’t stand back and watch you destroy everything.”

“Destroy? I’m saving the Wizarding world from the filth that taints it!”

“Like yourself, Tom? Or have you finally fallen for your own lies? You may have Slytherin’s blood, but you’re a mudblood, same as me.”

“Think if you keep talking Potter will summon the courage to confront me? Or will he hide behind your lovely skirts some more?”

“He’s never hesitated to confront you before, why would he start now? I’m sure he’s biding his time, looking for Nagini. But I’ve already killed her.”

Fury filled his face.

“The diary, the ring, the cup, the diadem, the locket, the snake, Harry himself. They’re all gone, Tom. All that’s left is you.”

Pieces started fitting into place in Voldemort’s mind. “So that’s what you and Potter were up to the past few months.”

“Longer than that really.” Hermione reached up to touch his face. “I forgive you.”

He knocked away her hand. “I don’t need your forgiveness.”

A tear fell down her cheek. “I only hope you can forgive me.”

He realized what she meant and raised his wand, but he was too late.

_“Avada Kevadra.”_

Chaos reigned as the fighting began anew.

~*~

Harry watched Hermione step out of the alcove where she’d taken Voldemort’s body. She spotted him and gave him a sad smile. He’d struggled to believe this woman was his friend, but he’d seen that look on her face so many times. Such a little thing couldn’t be faked. He walked over to her. “Hey.”

She chuckled and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh Harry.” She let go of him. “I haven’t seen you in fifty-two years and that is the only thing you have to say. Hey?”

“It’s only been a couple hours for me. This is really weird. I’m never going to see you again.” He thought better of what he said. “I mean...”

“I understand what you mean. It’s a little strange for me too. I’ve waited so long to see you and Ron again.”

Harry rubbed the back of his head. “Speaking of Ron…”

“The Prewett temper is rearing its ugly head,” she guessed, resigned.

“Yeah. He’s not taking this well.”

“I didn’t expect he would. Ron doesn’t take sudden change well.” She bit her lip nervously. “I’m a bit surprised you’re not in a snit with him, given my choice of husband.”

He shrugged. “I’ve met Tom Riddle, you know. I know what he was like then. And I can see where you might be attracted to him. He was probably the only one who could keep up with you mentally. I know I can’t.”

“Something like that. You didn’t really know him, just a shade of what he was. And take anything Dumbledore said with a grain of salt, the self-righteous bastard.”

“Albus Dumbledore was a great wizard.”

She shook her head. “Albus Dumbledore was no better than Tom. He thought he knew everything, that he was the sole arbiter of good and evil. He helped make Tom what he was.”

“Just because he saw Voldemort for what he was?”

“No one is born evil, Harry. Dumbledore said that a lot. But he never applied that logic to Tom. You know his history, have some idea what his childhood was like. Tom came to Hogwarts a troubled child. He needed help, he needed guidance. But Dumbledore tried to isolate him, accused him of every wrongdoing under the sun.”

Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Is that what Voldemort told you?”

“I saw it, Harry, I saw how he treated his so-called dark wizards. He was as biased as Snape, just nicer. I saw him accuse Tom of sabotaging another student’s work when the rest of the class saw it was Ignatius Prewett. Everyone knew if it came down to a Slytherin’s word, the truth didn’t matter; doubly so when it came to Tom. By the time I arrived, he’d given up trying to be good and he was falling into the dark.”

“That was his choice.”

“Yes, it was. But no one was there to discourage him until me. Kids live up or down to adults’ expectations regardless of what those are. Dumbledore wrote him off the first time he saw him. Tom lived down to those expectations.”

“Dumbledore didn’t force him to take that job at Borgin and Burkes.”

“He had no choice. I was five months pregnant and unable he’d lost the offer he had at the Ministry, so some pureblood’s nephew could have a cushy job.”

He glanced over to where Alexander was talking with Horace Slughorn. “I guess Dumbledore didn’t know about that.”

“Guess who recommended the nephew,” she replied, her words tainted with lingering bitterness. “He went out of his way to tell everyone about Tom. In 1945, no one was going to go against the Defeater of Grindlewald. And to the old purebloods, Tom was just a mudblood. It didn’t matter he was in good with the sons of a few of the ‘good’ families, all they saw was his name. Tom tried to find something else, even Slughorn put in a word with a few people, but it did no good. Abraxas Malfoy arranged for the job at Borgin and Burkes, when what little money we had ran out.” She sighed. “That was when Voldemort was truly born. Within his first week, I knew I’d lost him. I tried to get him to leave, start over somewhere else...”

“He wouldn’t go.”

She shook her head. “That’s when he became obsessed with his heritage, with blood status.”

“He already was.”

“It wasn’t the same. Part of it was a desire to fit in. Slytherin House is not kind to non-purebloods that aren’t connected to the old families. Remember the whole thing with the Half-Blood Prince? Part of it was the orphanage. Part of it was the war. Did you know he wasn’t evacuated? Since he was in school, he was left off the orphanage’s lists. They assumed his school would make the arrangements as the Muggle schools did. I’m not sure if Dippet even knew there was a war on in the Muggle world. He certainly didn’t make arrangements for any of the Muggle students in his care nor did he take into account King’s Cross is in the middle of London. Dumbledore could’ve done something but as much as I’d like to blame him, it was Dippet’s responsibility.”

“He would’ve missed the Blitz. It was during the school year, wasn’t it?”

“He missed the worst of it, yes. But the Germans were doing air raids throughout the war. Some of the buildings a block over were leveled while he was in the orphanage by himself, just after the Blitz in 1941.”

“So he had a shitty childhood. I did too. I’m not about to turn into a Dark Lord.”

She touched his cheek. “What Dumbledore did to you was nothing short of criminal.”

“What?”

“He knew the kind of home you were in. He covered it up, made the complaints disappear.”

“The Dursleys weren’t that bad.”

“Yes, they were. The cupboard alone was enough to get you removed. The locks on your door and the bars on your window likely would’ve seen them in prison. Your school nurse complained about the malnutrition and suspicious bruises. Every one of your primary school teachers had something to say about you and Dudley. I made a complaint directly to social services myself, twice. The paper files are gone, but the electronic files are still there. The social workers had their memories changed. Only one person had motivation to do that. The Ministry would’ve used you for publicity; the Death Eaters would’ve killed you; most of the Order would have raised you as their own, on the run if they had to; the Dursleys would’ve been glad to be rid of you. The only person who wanted you in that house, at any cost, was Dumbledore.”

“He was protecting me. Like you said, the Ministry would’ve used me and the Death Eaters would’ve killed me.”

“Why couldn’t Sirius take you into the Muggle world?”

“Everyone thought he was a Death Eater.”

She scoffed. “Dumbledore knew who the secret keeper was. He was the one who cast the charm. Maybe he thought Sirius guilty of murdering Wormtail and those bystanders, but that was after you were dumped on the Dursleys’ doorstep.”

“The blood wards-”

“Why did he jump on blood magic so quickly? Those sorts of books were removed from Hogwarts’ library centuries ago. And he was no expert. The wards never took, not properly.”

“They didn’t?”

“No. Sacrificial blood wards are some of the strongest wards in existence. Tom shouldn’t have been able to get close to you. Owls wouldn’t have been able to find you. The Dementors wouldn’t have been able to find you. Properly done, nothing could’ve gone through those wards.

“But Dumbledore didn’t know what he was doing when he anchored them to he didn’t know that your treatment severely weakened them. You would’ve been safer with Sirius behind a Fidelius charm.”

“Fidelius charm didn’t save my parents.”

“Because they put their trust in the wrong people, not because the spell was faulty.” She paused. “Harry, don’t make the mistake of whitewashing Albus Dumbledore. He was just a man, an ordinary man, who was out on the front lines of two wars for the better part of the twentieth century.”

“You chose Gryffindor because of him.”

“I learned soon enough not to trust authority so easily. Besides, if I hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have been friends with you and Ron.”

Harry wanted to argue, but he couldn’t deny she had a point, even if he disagreed to the extent. He let it go and changed the subject. “What house were you in? You know, back in the forties?”

“Ravenclaw.”

“Figures. Bookworm,” Harry teased.

“Says he who was supposed to be Slytherin,” she teased back.

“I’m halfway surprised you weren’t sorted there.”

“I’m nowhere near sneaky enough and my main ambitions at the time were rather simple. I could’ve gone back to Gryffindor, but I thought Ravenclaw would better help me research time travel.”

“And he knew?”

“Eventually. I could never hide much from him. He never knew everything though. I was sorely tempted to just give him the prophecy. I could have convinced him to ignore it.”

“You could’ve saved my parents?”

Hermione shook her head sadly. “No, but I tried anyway. I wrote your parents, warning them not to trust Wormtail. Apparently, they didn’t believe me.” She fingered an amber bracelet. “I tried to change so much, but none of it ever took. I couldn’t change what I knew had happened.”

He glanced back at her son, who was showing pictures to Slughorn. “So, kids?”

“Four. Alexander and Elizabeth are both spell masters, Victoria is a professor at the magical university in Sydney and Katherine is an artist.”

“Sydney? Are you in Australia? Do you know where your parents are?”

“Yes. They’re fine, if a little creeped out. It was my own memory that was changed, not theirs, so no more guilt about what I did. My dad is struggling with the fact his grandson is a year older than him and my mum is focusing on spoiling my grandkids. Crookshanks is completely unfazed, of course.”

“That’s good. Things have worked out for you, despite him…”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “It wasn’t all bad, Harry. It would be so much easier if I could hate him. But I can’t, I still love him so much and I killed him.”

Harry held her as she cried. Once again, he felt sorry for Voldemort. He gave up the best thing he would ever have, the only person in this world who would love him and mourn him. Tom Riddle was a fool and Harry hoped now Hermione could find someone who deserved her.

~*~

In the Chamber of Secrets, Tom Riddle opened his own eyes for the first time in years. The untamed hair was the first thing he recognized.

Hermione smiled. “About time you woke up sleepyhead.”

“Why?” His voice, unused to use, gave out.

“You didn’t think you could get away from me that easily, did you?”

“I was dead. You killed me.”

“Unlike that worthless rat Pettigrew, I’m the only living Master of Necromancy. And I’ve had fifty years to plan. I called each piece of you back as your horcruxes were destroyed. I had your blood and flesh, so I cloned you a new, pristine body. A proper body, not the half-assed magical construct you had Wormtail create. All I needed to do was wait for Samhain and,” she gestured to his new form, “I get my husband back.”

His mind was racing. “A new body?”

“In better condition than the original.”

He grinned. “A new beginning.”

She leaned down and kissed him. “Now let’s talk about the short leash this body comes with.”

“What?”

“You didn’t really think I was just going to let you run around unchecked after everything you put me through? You had your chance to do things your way- two of them in fact- and you wasted them. We’re doing it my way; you’re coming home.”

He could feel the pull towards home, towards family. He hadn’t before.

_He hadn’t felt it before._

He was well versed in the Dark Arts. He knew all about dark compulsions, the threads one could weave to turn a person’s will to your own, without even their knowledge. They were dangerous, never truly controllable. She had tied it nicely into their marriage binding.

“You bound me.”

“We both know you would’ve lied your ass off if I’d simply asked.”

He couldn’t deny that.

“Lord Voldemort is dead and buried,” she said softly. “Leave it that way, Tom.”

“What am I to do now? Waste away my days as your lapdog?”

“Live up to your potential. No one knows Tom Riddle in Australia. They’ve barely heard of Voldemort. We can live the life we were meant to. And you’re hardly my lapdog. I just tweaked your priorities a bit.”

He snorted.

“Do you remember Germany while you were on your war service?”

“You followed me, two screaming babies in tow.”

“Those two were hardly screaming and you weren’t the least bit upset.”

“Commander gave me permission to live off base. I didn’t have to live in the barracks and hide my Dark Arts books.”

“Says the man who used to sit on the floor and play with his kids when he wasn’t on duty. And your CO needed a bit a magical prompting, if I recall correctly.”

He squirmed.

“You liked it. Not enough to overcome your rage, but you liked being a father.”

“I just didn’t want to be _him_.”

“Well, you definitely succeeded there. What about that year in Rome, when we were researching at the Vatican? Victoria asked you for a bedtime story every night and you indulged her. Don’t pretend she didn’t have her Daddy wrapped around her little finger.”

“History is important to learn.”

“If it was so horrible, why did you chase after us?” she asked softly.

He looked her in the eyes. “You were- _are_ \- mine.”

She smiled. “Of course we are. Why did you let us go?”

“You were a weakness I could no longer afford.”

“So it had nothing to do with Nott trying to convince the other Death Eaters to kill us.”

He said nothing. He wasn’t sure he could lie convincingly enough to fool her. She knew his tells.

“Tom?”

He took a deep breath, then answered. “You were mine. It was my call to make. Not theirs.”

“We all knew you weren’t going to make that decision.”

Even after all these years, Nott’s actions angered him. “It wasn’t their right!” he shouted. “Not you! Not my children! All of you were mine! If you were to die, it would be by _my_ hand, no other!”

She looked at him, understanding. “You were scared for us.”

It was closer to the truth than he was comfortable with. “Of course I wasn’t. Don’t be ridiculous. Lord Voldemort isn’t afraid of anything.”

“But Tom Riddle is, and Tom Riddle was afraid for his family.”

He looked down at his hands. “You don’t have to be so smug about it,” he grumbled.

She kissed him lightly. “Your family has been scared for you too.”

“I suppose you haven’t been idle all these years.”

She scoffed. “Of course not.” She glanced at her watch. “In fact, I have a call with Bill Gates in less than two hours. He wants me to get him out of this antitrust mess he’s gotten himself into. I’ll do it, of course, but not without a boatload of concessions. Not to mention leaking all of it to Steve Jobs. So very competitive, those two.”

Tom was confused. He’d never heard of any wizard named Gates or Jobs. “Who is Bill Gates?”

“The man who rules the world. Well, makes the operating systems that run the computers that rule the world. He owes me big, but he’s a bit of an egomaniac and very insecure. This mess, will get me the keys to the kingdom.”

Computers? Those big muggle things? “Is he a _muggle_?”

“Oh, Tom,” she sighed affectionately. “The Wizarding World is so small and getting smaller every year, under the yoke of their own prejudices and fears. There’s a whole big world out there ripe for the taking, for anyone with the guts to step over a few lines and money. And every year, there’s more and more youngsters who realize there is no place for them in that tiny little world of magic and no place in the huge world of technology without help.”

“And you provide that help.”

“They’re ever so grateful for the connections and education I provide, paid for by corporate masters of the universe like Gates and Jobs.”

“Who you used magic to also help.”

“Inch by inch, the world moves the way I want. I help Steve Jobs get the company he started back, he gives me stock and inside information. I help a politician get elected, they vote the way I want them to. I pay for some poor half-blood to get a mastery, they give me helpful little _gifts_. I get a muggleborn a job at Microsoft, they hide a few lines of code in Windows for me.”

Tom laughed. “You’re Slughorn, basically.”

“Please, Slughorn had all that influence and did nothing with it, except elicit a few tins of candied pineapple. I make the world turn. Before too long, there won’t be anyone left in the Wizarding World, save for a few purebloods too inbred to use as breeding stock. Everyone else will be working for me.”

“You never liked the spotlight.”

She shrugged. “I’m not in the spotlight. I’m perfectly happy in the shadows.”

He shook his head. He knew his wife had a dark side, could be manipulative when she could justify it to herself, but quietly taking over the world? That would have impressed Salazar himself. “How were you never sorted into Slytherin? Twice?”

“You knew me, Tom. I was never this sneaky before you.”

He narrowed his eyes. He distinctly remembered the reports from her fifth year at Hogwarts. “Dumbledore’s Army? The cursed signup sheet? Those were definitely before me.”

“Technically, no. You were my first Defense teacher.”

“No, Quirrell was your teacher, I was just along for the ride.”

“Right,” she drawled, clearly not agreeing.

“You were always this sneaky. I just convinced you it was useful to your cause.”

“As long as you take responsibility for it.”

He grew serious. “So what now? What do you expect of me, since you’ve bound me to you?”

“It’s time to step up our operations. I have plans you are uniquely qualified for. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

“You seem to have things well in hand. What use could you have for a former Dark Lord?”

“Oh, I have a lot of use for a former Dark Lord. For now, you can start with the family of taipans that have taken up residence in the garden. They won’t leave poor Crookshanks alone.”

Tom fell back to the altar and groaned. “You resurrected me just to finish the honey-do list I was avoiding, didn’t you?”

“Hardly,” Hermione replied smugly. “It was just a pleasant bonus.”


End file.
